Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1

In the distance, a small house sat on a hillside, where an old man sits in his rocking chair gazing at the clear night sky. Evening had befallen the old man, and in the cool of the breeze, his gaze had turned toward the shimmering stars above...

The old man sat alone on his porch, his face is weather beaten and his hands marked from the years of hard work. The old man lets out a slow sigh and looked down at his only loyal friend. The long barrel of the shotgun shines silver in the night. He pats the redwood butt that has his name burned into it, and rocks in his chair, his mind remembering the past.

He fingered his name on the butt as he rocked softly in his chair in-tune with the gentle breeze. He dreads these night as his eyes swept across the land. His family gone and the few friends he does have never come calling. Only the old nightmares call and the old regrets of a wasted life; it didn't need to have been wasted; if only something could have been changed!

“I'm an old man now, looking back on old memories,” he says to Betsy his shotgun. “Just like all old men do. Yep, isn't that right old girl?” He pats the redwood butt. “Just need maybe one or two shells for the task at hand. Should have done it years ago to tell you the truth old girl; me alone with nothing to do except look at the stars?” He sighed. “Death been playing hard to get. He's never home when I come calling.”

“Is that so?” Says a warm voice, “I'm so sorry I was late.” The man called Death takes a seat next to the old man. His eyes are gentle, and he rocks with the old man, eyeing the shotgun in his hands.

 

The old man looked upon at Death sighed with relief, yet not surprised by his arrival. He pats old Betsy, rubbing shells between his fingers. “You know I've been waiting a long time for you?”

“Like I said, I'm sorry,” Death says his voice calm and warm, for he has seen the old man’s possible future. Knowing now the time has approached and he has readied the man’s mind for what is about to take place. For Death himself is the one keeping the old man alive. Just barely his eyes drawn upon the shot gun, knowing if he was any later everything would be lost to us all.  The time has come as evil has stretched forth its hand touching his world beyond the very stars themselves and this man’s world as it lay’s dying, corrupted by Morgan’s evil and his master pushing the course of this old man’s doom. Dooming us all by simply waiting in the shadows and has reawakened in the old mans mind the horrors of his life and future realities.  “No! Morgan and his master must be stopped.” His mind reeling with the thought of this man dying, but first he must save the old man and the boy within him. His eyes soften as he gazes into the old mans mind.

“Yes, I heard you,” he says as he leans further back in his chair. “Me and Betsy here were wondering if you were ever going to show. I've spent the last twenty years miserable and alone with nothing, but the nightmares to keep me company.”

“Like I said,” said Death putting a gentle hand on his knee. “I'm sorry, I really am. I've come to you now though, providing you are ready to leave?”

The old man laughed. “I'm sitting here alone at night holding a gun! Either I go with you, or I'll go with another. I'm not going to spend another twenty years in this living hell alone.”

Death smiled, slowly taking the gun from the old man’s white knuckled hands. “I have a proposition for you, I think you'll like in the end.” He says as the old man’s eyes fix upon on the gun at Deaths feet. Wondering how it got there his mind seemed tired as if it was already a sleep. The Darkness lightened in his mind dulling his senses.

“What kind of proposition you got in mind?” He asked, as he shifts and lifting his eyes to look upon Death his mouth dry his mind buzzed, wanting to fall into a deep sleep. He tries to shake awake, but it was already too late.

“Oh, you'll see,” Death, said eagerly, taking his hand.

A large square mirror appears before them, not made of glass, for it had no sides nor back, it held no reflection. Death grins with a wave of his hand a cool breeze throws the old man towards it. The old man screamed as he passes through its shiny skin. He fell through time, images kaleidoscope around him. Faster and faster, he twisted and tumbles. Images of his miserable life engulf him, unfold before him. All the pain and sorrow of his shattered dreams, the result of one wrong choice, the wrong choice spreads like cancer. Which had became several wrong choices that have ultimately led him to this moment of unbearable suffering. Heavy chains of burden suffocated him, making him gasp in despair and pray for an end.

He hits something solid; the wind is knocked out of him. He lies still, gasping for breath in a body that felt broken, his mind swarming with old and distance memories. He is trapped and alone, unable to move anything, but for his eyes. He loses track of time, lying trapped within his own body waiting for the images to fade. He felt compelled to speak his name, but is unable to breathe but a whisper.

The room around him is not very big, and yet has halls leading from it. The light in the room is soft, barely enough to see by. It seems to have no point of origin, as though the very walls themselves were producing it. The light is pale in color, yet not a color at all. The room is eerily silent; no sounds can be heard coming from anywhere. The place has an unnatural feel, as though the laws of the world don't apply here. The old man panics from its strangeness. “Help! Can anyone help me!” he screams. His screams are suppressed by the places unnatural nature. His pleas for help; muffled by a strange force, as though he were shouting through a pillow.

 

Feeling weak, he laughed at himself. “Fine mess I got myself into this time. Thought it was hog wash, thinking Death was going to help me. Great, now we're talking to ourselves. Well I don't like here and I want to get out,” he said to himself. The feeling of being trapped is stronger with each step he takes and despair and loneness was getting stronger by the minuet. His heart was racing like was it going to beat right out of his chest. “I am doomed,” he said.

About to give up, he turned around he sees a tired looking young boy wearing a look of bewilderment. “Asking where did he come from?” The question forms in his mind. I would have known if someone else were here he thought. But that wasn't important right now. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” He asked the young boy in hopes he might know the way out.

 

The tired young boy just looked at the old man as if he should have known who the boy was, fell to the ground in nearby corner with his head in hands and begins to cry. The old man ponders this in his mind gathers his strength and some courage. Went to where the boy is sitting. He tries again… in hope this might be his way out.
 

Taking a closer look, he sees how frail the boy is, as if he had been through a war - though of a different kind of battle. He's dirty, but so is the old man, he doesn’t care at this point. He's shivering and not sure from the cold. The old man quietly removed his jacket trying not to startle him and puts the jacket around his shoulders. The boy flinched, but does not look up. Trying to make him feel more at easy at the same time, plus to contain the excitement that there might be away out, there’s a feeling that he is the key.  Knowing now the worse thing is to do is frighten this boy more. Then he would be truly alone in here forever and doom would come more quickly, he could taste it.

 

Hearing the quiet sobs of the boy is almost at peace now, considering just a while ago it was silent as a grave. On the other hand it does give the old man lots of time to think. “TIME does it exist here? Does anyone know that I am even missing? Does anyone even care? Does it even really matter anymore?” The old man thought of old Betsy sitting alone by the side of the house his only friend these days. “Or does Time exist at all?” All is quiet where he is at the moment even the boy is silent. “Strange did I do something? Did I say anything because I am alone with my thoughts, unless?” Old man thinks for a moment.

 

Noticing the boy's eyes staring back into his, somehow they were warm, friendly yet they seemed full of pain, sorrow and loneliness. The old man just realized something. “He must have brought him here. He is also the key to this strange puzzle, but why?" Will the pain of sorrow ever end? All he wanted was just to die, to forget the nightmares of his past and the world dying around him. Worlds and dreams that are not his own and nightmares of everlasting darkness caused by some evil man named Morgan. Things seemed to just get worse not better. The old man thought as he rubbed his head with the back of his hand. “We need to find the way out and soon.”

 

He looked down at the tired young boy whom seemed to be bewildered and lost... This time lying beside him was a set of old keys. They both looked at the keys lying beside him. He gave the old man a quirky little smile handed them to him. The old man looked into his deep tear laden eyes, as he is about to turn and ask his name. The young boy gripped him with all his strength that he has left to him as the old man lifted him off the ground to walk with him. He turned to find a door for the key. The old man thinking, “I don't remember any doors or windows, just walls that go nowhere.” 

 

The old man turned to ask his new friend about these keys and why he never used them? Or the more important where are all the doors for these keys? The old man turned on his right to ask, just to discover his friend is gone. His jacket lay on the ground where the boy used to be.  “Where could he have gone? I need him. Please don't leave me not now, not here, not in the dark, where are you? Who are you?” The old man calls out.

 

The old man wondered if he should go on alone, he began to search the corridors for the doors and for his missing friend, trying not too letting fear get in the way. The old man can barely hear anything except for his own heartbeat and the dull sounds of clinking of the keys in his hand twisting beside him. “I must be mad, I never seen any door's in here, where could he have gone? It's so dark in here. Wait I see. Yes I think I see something just up ahead, a shape? WAIT? DON’T LEAVE!!” The old man screamed.

 

His heart raced faster as he got closer to the shape, he saw a small figure the same size of the young boy. “Yes. It is the same boy pointing to the same door?” He asked himself; running, tired, but knowing he must get there, afraid he might leave him here alone. “I hate being alone especially here. I was right,” the old man said nearly out of breath. “It is the small boy.” He looked somehow familiar to him as if he’d had seen him somewhere before perhaps in a dream?  The old man noticed the same sad, wanting eyes. The young boy looked up at him, gave a little smile and pointed at a little keyhole at a rusted lock in the door. The door is old, black and tarnished. The old man turned and asked. “Is this the way out?”

 

The young boy backed away from the door quickly. Fear was shown on his face and all he could do is point with his little fingers, shaking them at the door. The old man looked back to where the little boy was standing and watched him fade into the background with the door as the old man opened it. He looked back once more and watched the door close, even the air is different, the colors the sounds. “But why was that boy so afraid? Why did he look so familiar to me yet so sad? More questions, why am I here? I wonder how old that boy was. He could have not been any older than ten or perhaps eleven.”

 

Just for a moment the old man thought he was left alone again with his own thoughts. In the yard the old man looked around noticed questioning the time of year. “It feels like it was September or early October,” he whispered. The leaves had just stopped falling and the winter cold was just settling in. There in the yard was a young boy playing in the leaves. Much like the one he left behind, behind the door now closed as he watched him for while unseen.  He wondered what it would be like to be that young again. Not to have adult problems, not having to suffer the things that he has suffered. Forgetting about the boy for the moment for in that single moment he becomes that boy...

 

* * *

 

The old man never felt so alive the autumn leaves touched his skin as he threw them into the air watching them fall to ground around him. The wind ran through his hair, “I am FREE!! The pain is gone,” he shouted.

 

He ran through the yard, down the road as fast as he could yelled into the wind. “How long would it last? Run, run, and let nobody catch me, I won't tell a soul. All it matters is that I am FREE from the world. I am a kid again at last. Run, run don't let them catch me… don't let them find me. I' am FREE to LIVE, to LIVE AGAIN!” As the old man ran trying to escape himself in the boy’s body he was over powered with the boy’s memories and emotion, his mind slipping into a distance fog. He becomes trapped in the boy’s world…

 

 

* * *

 

“The only problem with running was there is nowhere to run to. After all I am only 10 and it's getting cold now, except for this nagging feeling that I am supposed do something be somewhere, besides play in the leaves. Wishing is great and all besides running round its lots of fun too. I want to go home,” the boy said to himself.

 

“My foster brother Jeff must be home early from work today; he's 18, he’s getting ready to go on mission and works at local welding shop. We don't talk much…he's always busy. I get the feeling I haven't been here very long. Something tells me I don't stay anywhere very long.” Some sort of a nagging feeling like being tugged as he looked around. “Did you hear that? Came from the outside of the house or was it just the sound as if the wind just made something fall at the back of the house.” It made his skin crawl as he searched with his eyes...

 

“It must have been Jeff. Never did know when he was coming or going these days. The folks left for the weekend won’t be back till sometime tonight. Better make sure the dishes are done before they get home or my a*s is grass that's for sure. They won't care who left them. Jeff's their perfect little angel. I'm everyone's gum on their shoe or yesterdays garbage.” His feet guided him towards the house with on last glace seeing a strange darkness coming over him and the house. He paused at the door before opening it leaned the rake beside the porch.

 

“Tried running away couple of times, always ran into a few problems; money, age, cops and food. During the winter it's cold during those months. I hate parks; burr spent enough time living in trees when I was younger. The cops are real big about you sleeping in the park and if they catch you they bring you back, because you are not old enough to go to juvie. Then you can expect biggest beaten of your life then they wonder why you wanted to run away. My question always would be the same, “why would you want to stay?”

 

“Things are getting little better. Heck I might actually get to go home; there is talk about sending me home for good, that's hard to believe. Course I have not lived at home more than, let’s see counting 1,2,3,4,5,6 maybe 6 years of my entire life at home since age 10, which usually is not more than 3 to four months at a time. Well, but look at the possibilities. Never leaving again. Maybe it is mistake? Maybe they do want me... they? Or he does? There's that noise again. Somebody is in the house. Jeff must be home. Funny I didn't hear his car.” The young boy walked through the house. There was an odd feeling, its cold against the boy’s skin. It was a feeling or a presence of death in the house. The source of the noise was coming from Jeff's bedroom down the hall.

 

The boy’s legs felt like they are made out of lead he could barely move them, slowly reaching Jeff’s room. The boy slowly, turned the doorknob and opened the door, very quietly so not disturb anything including the dust. The boy puts his hand to his mouth to scream no, but no words, no sound. Nothing came out of his mouth. The young boy felt paralyzed to move as his eyes within those short few seconds locked with Jeff’s.

In that last instant the gun fired. The young boy watched him fall to the floor. He could see the blood forming a puddle on the rich blue carpet around his head. He gazed upon him for the last time. He could see his dead cold eyes staring back at him as if they were holding him hostage. The room was silent now except for Jeff’s last breath leaving his limp body.  The boy turned to leave the room leaping through the closing door. The hall where he came from moments ago have gone and transformed back into the strange forbidding room behind the looking glass.

Reviews

[mariah]

wow, this was a long one! anyway, you did awesome. i love the dialogue, its smart. i hate the "blah" dialogue some writers use, where they give people no personality. you clearly did not choose that path. i also love the perception of death you have created her, it intrigueing. and i feel like you set the tone very well, right from the begining. i am trying to find errors of any kind, but i can't find any! i will keep looking though, becuase i want to help you out. bye, read more later!

[Shep]

I hoping you do so I can correct them I want publish this so bad hurts I been working on this particular book four years. I have had several offers, but the errors have been holding me back. Plus it seems I don’t have enough chapters of Morgan or my other characters of Masters of Light in this book. Hence the hidden chapters.

[Rhianne Ney]

Looking glass... I feel the sudden urge of entering the glass.
Great job here and I think it's well done with your great definition and wells haped characters. (:

I'll be reading more soon~!

[Writer #00]

"...was already a sleep."-->"...was already asleep."
"..was getting stronger by the minuet"-->"...was getting stronger by the minute."

Great chapter (I finally finished reading it...took a break for a bit). The ending was so chilling; so sad. I loved the transition between the old man and his past self (is that the boy?). You're a brilliant writer, I can't wait until this is published and I can have it on my bookshelf.

[Shep]

Thanks that's my goal. Read on and find the answer.

[Writer #00]

I shall...but can you explain the "1-1; 1-2; etc." thing to me? Are these different parts to the same chapter...?

[Shep]

Yes they are the same chapter within the chapter scope. It makes it easier for me to break up long intended chapters. And makes it easier when i go back to editing.

[Writer #00]

That's a good idea...I might steal that one day if I ever want to post a really long chapter.

[Writer #00]

"The old man lets out a slow sigh and looked down at his only loyal friend."-->"The old man lets out a slow sigh and looks down at his only loyal friend." (your tense is inconsistent as you have it now).

" For Death himself is the one keeping the old man alive.""He says as the old man's eyes fix on the gun at Death's feet." (Saying 'upon on' is redundant, like 'inside in'...or something.)

The conversation between an old man and Death is actually not all too far-fetched. I've heard that a lot of old people know when they are going to die and welcome Death calmly. Nice analogy...if that's what you were going for.

[Syrinx]

Amazing first chapter! You write third person very well! I will read on soon, I didn't see any typos and I love the plot so far!

[Shep]

Thanks. It is good to see reviews from you at last..

[Syrinx]

Haha sorry I'm busy some people have school

[Shep]

Been there done that.

[Shep]

so are you coming back to read .

[Syrinx]

Yes, I just have been very busy recently, I just got in a wreck (other drivers fault) and now trying to find a used car under $9000

[Rawrocky]

Oh that was intense! So I'm guessing the boy was the old man? I guess Death is trying to show him that there were lessons in what he saw or that even if he did go back he couldn't change anything? Hmmm...this is so interesting! I could only read this for now but I will definitely read more!

[Shep]

Glad you liked it. The answer is no. Nothing is set in stone that it can't be changed.

[Shep]

are you coming back. to read

[DarkCrono15]

Good chapter! I think my favorite part was Death's entrance where he said "I'm sorry I was late!" Heh, not sure if it was meant for humor but it made me laugh. For some reason as I read this I picture death from Family Guy, but w/e =)

As its the first chapter we have a lot of unanswered questions...like what the heck is this proposition Death offered him? How the heck did he go from an old man to a boy? Well, I'm sure it will all be answered in due time.

You also did a great job describing the scene, especially when as an old man he was running through the inside the mirror...place.

Construction Criticism thoughts, again take them as you see fit.

Once he became a 10 year old boy his dialogue was very rapid, which I think was supposed to help us picture a 10 year old's low attention span. It was good, but sometimes it seemed confusing to me. Also, he was VERY articulate for a 10 year old. Not a huge problem for me, but would you want to change the things he noticed to more...10 year old things? Personally, I preferred it the way you wrote.

And now, a quick grammar fix...

"All is quiet where he is at the moment even the boy is silent. “Strange did I do something? Did I say anything because I am alone with my thoughts, unless?” Old man thinks for a moment." ............I believe there needs to be a "The" in front of Old man, in the last sentence.

Good writing and I look forward to reading more!

[Shep]

Yes it was a choice to dumb him up a bit, but it was better to thin him nerdish ADD fo he is as you get to know him trust me it will all make since soon enough. Thanks for the grammar check. I thought I had them all by now. Will fix when I get a moment.

[Strigoikillerr]

I like how the old man named his gun Betsy. lol It's still very sad that Betsy was his only friend :( The different POVs were very interesting and enjoyable! I was a little confused at first, but I think you did a great job! Definitely felt like I was on the verge of tumbling over into insanity, which was kind of cool to experience :) I also liked your persona of death. Great work! Thanks for sharing :)

[Shep]

thanks for reading. Trust me gets stranger.

[Pax]

actually the shifting from the old man to a boy is quite confusing(Maybe its just me on how i understant it) but still the transformation is clear and that's all that matters.

this story reminds me so much of your Life story. the climax is the most tragic.
reading the suicide of Jeff here makes me really sad..just like the first when i read him in your life story

great beggining..

[Shep]

The shifting bettween the boy and the old man can be confusing at first. But will become clear in the next chapter or two. When they become one.

[Lane Craver]

very cool transitions! can't wait to find out what happens to the biy/old man... AND find out about this Morgan character! great set up kudos to ya!

[Shep]

Please tell me if I have added enough Morgan. Considering this is the first book in the series. He plays a more serious role towards the end of the second book and more so in the third and forth book. Hence the reasons for the hidden chapters to give the reader a taste to what is to come.

[Lane Craver]

You have it strnging the reader along knowing there is going to be more.a big battle is coming ...that is what i got out of it

[Xerclipse]

there weren't any errors I read from here but I see the link to your story. I like the idea of going back in time to undo the mistakes. But he clearly failed to save Jeff. So far I don't think I could feel as much as I felt for your non fiction story, but this is only judging from the first chapter. Maybe I will feel for the later ones.

[Shep]

That was one mistake I could never fix nor would he want me to. I think you will feel something; I still do in a lot of the places. Be prepared to laugh tell it hurts and ball like a baby next.

[Xerclipse]

Of course, The dead is dead. They should rest. I bet jeff is really happy now, otherwise he wouldnt have killed himself. Oh boy there is probably some humor next

[Shep]

New picture page on my Life